The Reasons Why
by LERDM
Summary: After meeting in their childhood, Sherlock and Emily have developed a tight bond, but when a horrid 'accident' occurs, and one is ripped away from the other, what is there to do but cherish memories, or at least that's what a normal person would do. Sherlock writes letters to Emily everyday, and little does he know that the whole time she's been reading them, more or less.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Many Years Ago

* * *

September 1990 (Sherlock is almost twelve)

A young Sherlock Holmes was 'meditating' out in the schoolyard in between classes, not really because he thought it worked, but it's an excuse to ignore everything and everyone. Sherlock didn't notice, however, that there was a group of boys walking towards him.

"Look, it's the machine!" One of them called out. Of course, Sherlock could hear them, but he challenged himself to ignore them.

"He thinks he's so much better than us, doesn't he?" The apparent leader of the group said, "Maybe we should teach him that he ain't better at everything."

"And maybe someone should teach you that it isn't nice to pick on people," A girls voice said from in front of Sherlock. He had to suppress the urge to look up in surprise.

"Oh yeah, didn't anyone evah' teach you tah mind your own business girl," one of the cronies said.

"Didn't anyone teach you simple math?" She asked, "Or how to speak properly?" She added and smiled.

"Hey!" The boy shouted indignantly, and he seemed to be about to pick a fight with the girl.

"Come on man! We'll get in so much trouble if we fight with a girl!" One of the other boys called from behind. Quickly the group ran away, realizing that a teacher was about to come their way.

"You know..." She looked around, "I don't think this actually works, or at least, you're not doing it right".

Sherlock wanted to respond, but he also wanted to be left alone, and he figured that this girl would leave once she was bored of talking to thin air.

"I'm new, I just moved here from-"

"East London, your mother got a new job, you play the violin, you're an only child, and you have self-confidence issues, which are completely unfounded," Sherlock interrupted. He looked up at her, expecting her to be angry or upset, but she was smiling.

"How'd you know?" She asked with a smile.

"I observed," Sherlock told her simply. She sat down in front of him, and that was when he realized she wasn't going to leave him in peace. "I'm Sherlock."

"Emily, Emily Smith."

* * *

January 2000

Mycroft was pacing in his brothers small flat, Sherlock hadn't been back for a while. Emily had gone out looking for him, but that was nearly two hours ago and he was beginning to get nervous. But before he could worry anymore, the door swung open and Emily came stumbling in, half carrying, half dragging Sherlock behind her. They were both shivering, and their hair was covered in snow. Mycroft quickly came and took Sherlock and laid him on the sofa.

"Where did you find him?" Mycroft asked her.

"Half dead in an alley nearby," Emily said running her hand through her hair, "When I first saw him I actually thought he was dead".

Mycroft walked up behind her and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"Thank you for finding him Emily," Mycroft said. He looked her over, "You're cold and tired, you should go home" Mycroft glanced over to Sherlock, "I got him".

Emily shook her head, she looked like she was about to cry, "I'm never letting him out of my sight again" she said, "I nearly forgot." She dug into her pockets, she pulled out a white piece of paper, "His list," she said as she handed it to Mycroft.

Mycroft took a moment to read all the things on the list and shook his head, "Oh Sherlock," he said sadly. He looked over to Emily, "Will you help me get him to his room?" He asked her. She simply nodded and grabbed one of Sherlock's arms, together they carried him to his bed.

"His breathing's getting harsher," Emily noted. She put her ear to his chest to hear his breathing, it was a little slow for Emily's liking.

Mycroft watched her nervously, "I think we should take him to the hospital." She said.

"We can't, you know why," Mycroft said. Emily nodded sadly in response, Sherlock and hospitals just did not mix. It was the only place that they actually attached the drugs to him.

"I'm going to stay here tonight, you can go if you want," Emily said. Mycroft just smiled, he left the room for a moment, and when he came back he had two chairs. He placed them beside the bed and he and Emily took a seat. It was only then that Mycroft realized she was shivering, he quickly glanced over her and noticed that her clothes, which had previously been covered in snow were now quite damp, and her hair was also wet. He reached out and touched her arm, which was cold to the touch as well.

"Emily, you're freezing, do you want tea?" He asked her.

"Yes please, thanks," she said, it was quite obvious that the adrenaline that had been keeping her warm and awake was wearing off fast.

When Mycroft brought the tea, he also brought one of Sherlock's tee-shirts, which of course he never wears. Mycroft figured it would be like a dress on her, considering she was quite short, and Sherlock was quite tall.

Emily looked at it quizzically, "What's that for?" she asked before taking a sip of her tea.

"You should get out of your wet clothes," he replied. Emily put down her teacup and went to the bathroom to change, and when she came back it was like she was wearing a dress. His shirt went just past her knees, she yawned and sat back down in her chair.

After about half an hour of just staring at Sherlock's unmoving body, Emily looked at Mycroft, "You have to work tomorrow, don't you. You should go, I can watch him."

Mycroft sighed and nodded, "Alright, call me if anything changes."

"I will." Emily looked at Sherlock and even though she knew his heart hadn't stopped, she was still afraid it would. She pulled her chair closer to the side of his bed and rested her ear over his heart. Slowly, she fell asleep to the steady beat, knowing that if it stopped she would wake.

At about 3 am Sherlock started to develop a bit of a fever, but at around 4:30 am he finally had his first lucid moment.

Sherlock blearily opened his eyes and looked around the room, he felt a weight on his chest and saw that Emily was half sitting, half laying on him. Sherlock looked at her with concern, she felt cold, very cold.

"Emily?" He asked.

She moaned but didn't move or open her eyes. Sherlock sat up slightly and pulled her up on the bed with him. He pulled the sheets over them both and pulled her closer to him. He could feel her shivering and he felt awful. He vaguely remembered her finding him in the alley. He also remembered how cold it was, and that she wasn't wearing a proper jacket.

He wrapped his arms around her and she curled up closer to the heat factory that was currently Sherlock.

The next morning Sherlock woke up to find that Emily was still asleep. She was no longer cold to the touch, but she now seemed to have a fever. When Sherlock sat up she drearily opened her eyes, "Sherlock?" She asked. Her eyes then widened, presumably as she remembered the events of the previous night. "You're alright? You're okay?" She asked quickly.

"Yes, I'm fine, you're-"

Emily slapped him, "You're a bloody idiot Sherlock!" She shouted. She angrily sat up, "Do you know what I would do to keep you safe?! What Mycroft would do?!" She then stood in anger, "There are people who love you right here! Right in front of you! Do you know what it feels like to watch you try and kill yourself over and over again?!" She brushed the tears from her face. "If I had been an _hour_ later..." She shook her head, "If-if I had-" Her voice stopped as she started to cry.

Sherlock looked at her, _did she just say she loved him_? He pushed the thought from his head. She was crying, she never cried. She was crying and it was his fault.

"Emily," Sherlock walked around the bed and stood in front of her.

"I-I th-thought you were-were dead Sherlock!" Emily said in between sobs.

"I..." Sherlock didn't really know what to say, but studies showed that physical contact helped soothe painful emotions. He hugged her tightly and felt her tears wet his shirt. "I'm so sorry Emily."

Emily shook her head and pulled away, "Sorry isn't good enough Sherlock, not this time. Next time there won't be a sorry to make because you'll be dead."

Sherlock nodded and put his hands on her shoulders, "I will never do this to you again, I promise."

Emily sniffed and rubbed her eyes, "You better not."

"You're sick," Sherlock commented, and Emily glared at him, "Yes, that would be my fault, please allow me to make you-" Emily sent him a glance, " _Order you_ ," He corrected, "Some soup." Emily smiled and nodded. "Go back to sleep for now, I'll wake you."

She nodded and crawled back into Sherlock's bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Accidents Happen

* * *

"And what did you expect?" Sherlock asked Emily, "That I would be someone you could dance around with at parties and show off to your parents?"

"No Sherlock, because I know you. I know you don't want that, and I would never..." Emily sighed, "I would never have pushed that life on you, and I never expected you to want that." She shook her head, "I just... I expected..." She looked up at him, and the heartbreak in her eyes devastated Sherlock, "You lied to me."

"Emily, please, it was-" Sherlock started but realized it was no use. She was gone, she ran out of his flat to her car on the street.

She got into her car and began to drive. She was almost home when she hit a red light, it was then that a voice spoke from the backseat.

"You will drive home," It said, and she felt cold metal against the back of her neck. "Do not make a noise, do not cry."

Emily gripped the steering wheel tighter, her mind was racing. She went with Sherlock on his cases all the time, he always told her that the moment the killer gets their victims alone they're as good as dead. Emily wasn't going to be like the women in Sherlock's cases.

"Who are you?" Emily asked.

There was no response from the man behind her. The light turned green and Emily looked around, there were people walking on the street in front of her.

"Drive."

Emily shut her eyes. She turned the wheel and slammed on the gas pedal. The car went flying towards the shops on the right of the road, and Emily braced for the impact. The car crashed spectacularly, and the nearby people ran to her aid.

Emily was barely conscious, but she managed to stumble out of the wrecked car. She didn't notice that the man had gotten out too, but she saw the man run off.

Emily rolled onto her back, and saw the people on the street run towards her, she could hear a lot of shouting, and someone was calling an ambulance. Someone's hands came around her neck and she tried to recoil, thinking they were trying to choke her. It was only when they put pressure on her neck that she realized that she must've been injured there. Maybe the man had pulled the trigger when they had crashed.

She didn't have much more time to think about it... she was starting to get tired...

* * *

Sherlock's phone rang, and he ignored it, still worked up over his fight with Emily. It was only when Mycroft hastily opened the door of his flat that he glanced at the screen of his phone, three missed calls from Bart's Hospital. That plus the slightly panicked look on Mycroft's face all pointed to one thing.

"Emily."

Sherlock and Mycroft raced to the hospital, "We're looking for Emily Smith," Sherlock said to the woman at the front desk.

"I'm sorry, she was taken into surgery about twenty minutes ago." Sherlock shut his eyes and clenched his fists, "Are you Mr. Holmes?" She asked.

"Yes?" He asked/responded.

"You're her emergency contact, we'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

"I believe that's for me," Mycroft spoke as he came to stand next to Sherlock.

"Mycroft Holmes?" She asked again.

"Yes, that is me," Mycroft said and took the papers.

Sherlock looked at his older brother with confusion.

They sat down and Mycroft explained, "Do you really think she would have wanted you to have to make these decisions?" Mycroft asked, "She's very kind your Emily. She would spare you all the pain in the world if she could."

Sherlock looked down at the floor.

At least ten hours later...

Sherlock had taken to pacing around the past few hours, something that was beginning to grate on Mycroft's nerves.

A doctor came up to the pair, "Mr. Holmes?" He asked.

"Yes?" They both responded at the same time.

"She was injured extremely badly, we managed to save her life, but it's hard to know if or when she will wake up."

"Can I see her?" Sherlock asked immediately.

"Right this way."

Sherlock entered her room and immediately stopped in the doorway, nearly causing Mycroft to walk into his back. Sherlock could feel his emotions swelling, his eyes were brimming with tears, "Emily..."

He took a few steps into the room and he could hear Mycroft speaking quietly with the doctor behind him, but Sherlock couldn't care less at that moment.

He stared, and he hadn't noticed the passing of time until Mycroft stood in front of him.

"Sherlock, try to contain yourself, you have to solve this case."

Sherlock whipped his head to meet Mycroft's eyes, he was on the brink of tears, "Don't tell me to control myself when she's right there like this!" Sherlock all but shouted at him.

"You can help her by finding her killer," Mycroft said.

"She's not dead!" Sherlock shouted, "And I could have helped her by keeping her safe!" He went and stood beside her unconscious form, "This wasn't supposed to happen, not to her, not to Emily." A single tear slipped down Sherlock's face. "I can't-I can't do it without her! I can't!"

Mycroft looked increasingly more alarmed with Sherlock's growing agitation. He knew his brother had cared for her, but not to this extent.

"You can't do what without her?" Mycroft asked, trying to understand.

Sherlock was crying silently, he sat down in a chair and gripped Emily's hand, "I can't breathe, Mycroft I can't breathe." Sherlock choked out

Mycroft went to his brother's side and saw that he was nearly hyperventilating, "Sherlock, breathe."

After about a minute Sherlock managed to get his breathing under control. Then Mycroft's phone rang, and he went outside to take the call.

"Please wake up," Sherlock said. He brushed a piece of hair behind Emily's ear.

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft as he re-entered the room, "Well?" He asked.

Mycroft shook his head, "There's nothing on any security cameras, but eyewitnesses say they saw a tall, dark-haired man run from the scene." Mycroft rubbed his forehead, "It's not enough to go on."

Sherlock shut his eyes and turned away from Mycroft, "You'll keep trying won't you?"

"Of course," Mycroft said, "Emily is... like family. To us both."

Sherlock looked at Mycroft in surprise, before turning his attention back to Emily.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Letters

* * *

Kaitlyn was a new nurse, working at a private facility for long-term care patients. She had just been assigned to watch over a young girl who had been in a coma for about ten months. Apparently, there was no real cause for her to be in a coma, but she just never woke up from surgery. It happened sometimes, it was rare, but it happened.

About a week in letters began to be sent to Emily's room from an unknown source, and one day Kaitlyn decided to read them to her. Some people say that people can still hear the things that go on around them while in a coma, so maybe it would help her.

"Dear Emily, please wake up," She paused, "Love Sherlock."

The nurse turned to the sleeping girl, Emily. "This Sherlock character, he isn't very creative."

The next day...

The nurse entered the room with another letter in her hand, "He's written another one." She opened the letter and read. "Dear Emily, I didn't know what to write yesterday, and I still don't. I'm sorry. You deserve better. Love Sherlock." Then Kaitlyn turned to Emily, "Well, that was kind of sweet."

A few days later...

The letters to the sleeping girl began to increase in size and also in adorableness. This particular day Emily's nurse, Kaitlyn, had invited two other nurses from the ward to listen in.

"Dear Emily, today I went to your flat and I..." Kaitlyn paused, "And I could barely breathe. I'm not used to feeling these sort of things, you were always the emotional one. Your violin was covered in dust and I thought that I should take it back to my flat. You always played so beautifully, you tuned it every single day without fail, so I thought I would continue doing so for you."

The women around Kaitlyn were smiling at each other sadly as Kaitlyn continued, "I've been thinking about what you did. You crashed the car so he couldn't get you alone, it made sense to me after a while. You were always so brave, braver than me. You would rather kill yourself than let someone else take your life from you." Kaitlyn and the nurses shared pitiful glances at Emily. "I miss you, please wake up. Love Sherlock."

"Oh, dearie," One of the older nurses spoke towards Emily.

A few months later...

Kaitlyn would receive letters from Sherlock a few times a week, and soon whenever she read them many of the other nurses would gather in the room. They thought the letters were romantic, and they felt bad for the young woman who had been in a coma for about a year and a half now.

Today's letter attracted a larger crowd than usual because Sherlock hadn't sent any that week.

"Dear Emily," Kaitlyn started, "I'm sorry I haven't written to you recently. I learned how to play your favourite song on your violin by memory and it took some time, but I finally figured out how you made that... noise on the last note. I don't know how else to describe what you sounded like. I miss you. Emily, I-" Kaitlyn stopped and had to clear her throat, she knew that they were getting to an emotional part. She always got emotional when reading these letters, she felt both Sherlock and Emily's pain.

"Emily, I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. I want you to wake up, why don't you just wake up? You told me you would do anything to keep me safe, and I'm unravelling. I need you, desperately. All I can think about is-" Kaitlyn stopped and re-read the next sentence again, not believing it.

"What is it, Kaitlyn?" One of her close friends asked.

"Sherlock, he's... a drug addict," Kaitlyn said with shock apparent in her voice.

"What?" The small group gasped, "What does he say?"

"All I can think about is morphine. How easily it helped me sleep when you were gone to school, and how easily it might help me now. I know I promised you that I would stop. I did, I have, but you can't understand. You're probably dreaming of a perfect place, with Dvorak playing softly in the background, but I'm here in reality. I'm without you and I don't want to be." Kaitlyn looked around the room, there were more than a few tears being shed.

"Please, Emily, if you're not waking up because of what happened that night then let me explain now. I lied to you because it was dangerous, there were dangerous people involved. I didn't want you to come with me because I didn't want you to get hurt. In doing so I pushed you away and I broke your trust. I am so sorry, Love Sherlock."

Kaitlyn looked at her patient and grabbed her hand, "Emily, you need to wake up, this man needs you to wake up..." She paused, hoping for something, the flutter of an eyelid, or the slight movement of a finger, but there was nothing.

"I'm sorry Kaity," One of the more experienced nurses said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "That's just not how it works."

There was no letter from Sherlock the next day, or the next, or the next... eventually, it had been eight months without a letter and Kaitlyn was fairly convinced that Sherlock had killed himself in a drug overdose. That was until one day a letter showed up.

"Girls! Girls come quick!" Emily called while poking her head into the safe lounge. Everyone inside instantly recognized the letter she held in her hands and quickly followed her down the hall to Emily's room.

Once everyone had settled, Kaitlyn began to read. "Dear Emily, I almost died a few months ago. My first thought was that it was inevitable, that perhaps it was even what you might've called fate. I was in my flat, and I was overdosing. I had fallen on the floor and was laying next to the coffee table when I spotted something underneath it. I reached in and I pulled out a picture of us when we were kids. You were losing horribly to me at chess and I was laughing at you I think."

"At first I didn't think much of it. It was just another reminder that you aren't here, but then something dawned on me. If I died, and you woke up... you would be so disappointed. I remember how hard you slapped me when you found me in the alleyway on new years day. I remember how much you cried and shouted. And then I remembered something I'd forgotten entirely. You told me you loved me." Kaitlyn gasped along with the rest of the room.

"You told me you loved me and I never said it back. I love you. Wake up and I'll tell you in person, Love Sherlock."

After that Kaitlyn didn't receive any more letters.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Coming and Going

* * *

Several Years Ago...

"What're you doing today?" Emily asked Sherlock as she made pancakes in his kitchen.

"Nothing," Sherlock groaned from where he was sitting in his chair.

"I'm sure you'll find something," Emily said with a smile. She put down their breakfast on the table and Sherlock looked at her with confusion.

"I haven't seen you eat anything since yesterday morning, so I take that to mean you haven't eaten _anything,_ " Emily explained.

Sherlock looked at her, "Thanks."

"No problem," Emily replied with a smile.

They ate in a comfortable silence. When Emily was finished she grabbed her violin case from the living room.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"I have a show tonight remember?" Emily asked him. She was a violinist in the London Symphony Orchestra.

"Ah... yes I remember," Sherlock said, drumming his fingers on the table.

"I might text you around lunch if we get a break," Emily said, slipping on her coat. "Bye Sherlock," She said and waved before picking up her case and leaving his flat.

It was around then that Sherlock's phone rang, the caller ID read: Scotland Yard. Sherlock answered, "Sherlock Holmes."

"Hi Sherlock, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade, I spoke with you the other day about possibly consulting on a strange case?"

"Yes, of course, Garth wasn't it?" Sherlock asked.

"Greg actually," Lestrade corrected.

"Yes, right," Sherlock paused, "Come to my flat and we can have a meeting."

About half an hour later...

Lestrade was standing in Sherlock's flat taking a look around, it was quite messy, except for the kitchen, which was fairly organized and clean.

"So, tell me about the case," Sherlock said. He gestured to the sofa for him to sit, Sherlock sat in his customary chair.

"Well, we found a body in a sauna. Average fellow, mid-thirties, not married, no children. He was a lawyer I think..." Greg trailed off trying to remember.

"What was the cause of death?" Sherlock asked.

"Hypothermia."

Sherlock leaned forwards, "Interesting..."

A few hours later...

"So the conclusion is therefore obvious," Sherlock stated. He was about to give his conclusion to Lestrade when he looked down at his watch, it was 6:20 pm. "Fancy going to the symphony?" Sherlock asked Lestrade.

Sherlock began to leave, and Lestrade followed. He assumed Sherlock was taking him to where they'd find the murderer. Maybe they would also be attending the orchestra. Sherlock hailed a cab and told him to drop them off about a block away. Lestrade was slightly confused when Sherlock stopped to get some flowers, but again, he assumed it was for the case.

They approached the ticket box and Greg started to dig in his wallet for his badge, but Sherlock stopped him.

"I believe I have two tickets under the name of Holmes," Sherlock told the woman behind the glass with a grin.

She smiled back as she handed him the tickets, "You know where." Sherlock was a regular and she recognized him.

Sherlock lead Greg to two seats in an upper box just as the conductor entered the chamber.

After the show Sherlock and Greg made their way down to the lobby, they then took a side door the read: employees only.

"Uh, are we supposed to be back here?" Greg asked.

"Trust me, I have an inside source," Sherlock said with a slight grin.

"Sherlock?" A woman's voice asked from behind them.

Greg and Sherlock both turned, Sherlock smiled and walked towards her while Greg oggled slightly.

"Emily, you were wonderful," Sherlock said and gave her the flowers.

"Aww, thanks Sherlock," Emily said, she then turned to Greg, "Who's this?"

"Greg Lestrade," Greg said at the same time Sherlock introduced, "Detective Inspector Lestrade."

Emily smiled at him and reached out her hand, "Nice to meet you Detective Inspector," She leaned to Sherlock, "I told you you'd find something to do today."

"Yes, about that, do you think a disgruntled lover or an angry sibling would have more motive for murder?" Sherlock asked.

"Depends..."

Sherlock, Emily and Greg went across the street for chips and the whole while Sherlock was explaining the case to her.

"Well, usually I would say lover, but in this case, I think it's the-"

"Sibling, my thoughts exactly," Sherlock said and smiled at her.

Greg then pulled out his phone and presumably texted one of his officers to arrest the brother of the victim, Jason Wright.

Lestrade then looked at the two of them, "So you two are a couple then?"

"We're flatmates." They spoke at the exact same time, Emily laughed and Sherlock grinned.

"We've known each other since we were children," Emily told him.

Greg looked at her with surprise, "Really?"

"Yes, I believe I'm the only reason you passed Year 12 maths," Sherlock commented.

"Pff, you mean Mycroft was. You were a rubbish tutour," Emily retorted.

Greg smiled at them, Sherlock was a strange and funny man. He had only known him for a few weeks now but already felt a little protective of him. It was nice to see that he did have some friends after all.

* * *

Just after the crash...

Lestrade found out about Emily a few hours after it had happened. Sherlock had texted him,

"Can't come in on any cases for the next little while, ~SH"

"Why not? I just got a good one for you! ~GL"

"Emily is in the hospital. ~SH"

"Why? What happened? ~GL"

"Car accident. ~SH"

Greg looked up from his phone, "Johnny!" Greg called to another officer, "I need you to find out what hospital Emily Smith was recently admitted to."

A few minutes later...

Greg came to the hospital and was ushered to a room on the third floor of Barts, when he entered the room he noticed that it was already full of letters, even though it had been less than 15 hours since the crash.

Sherlock had his head resting on the bed, and seemed to be asleep, but when Greg entered the room his eyes opened and he sat up. Greg ignored the telltale redness creeping in the whites of his eyes and looked at Emily.

"Sherlock..." Greg started, but then realized he had no words to console the young man. "When do they think she'll wake up?" He asked after a pause.

Sherlock shook his head, "She was supposed to wake up hours ago."

"Well, sometimes these things take time," Greg said.

The two men stood in front of her in silence for several minutes.

"I need to get back," Greg said.

"Yes," Was Sherlock's reply.

Greg put a supportive hand on his shoulder and held it there for a few moments before leaving.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Deductions

* * *

John had been Sherlock's roommate for about two months now, and he had started to consider the man as his friend. And as his friend, John had some concerns. First of all, who was Emily Smith? And why was Sherlock hiding her?

John had several pieces of evidence to support the theory. First of all, when they were working the Study in Pink case. He and Sherlock went to a restaurant, where a man named Angelo waited on them. When they had come in Angelo had thought they were a couple. John was too preoccupied explaining that they were _not_ a couple to realize that Angelo had actually said, "Only the best for you and your date," he had paused then continued, "I see you have a type."

Then, when John had asked, "You don't have a girlfriend then?"

And Sherlock replied, "Girlfriend?" He had paused, "No, not really my area."

The pause was what was important, did it mean that he had had someone in mind, but didn't consider her his girlfriend?

Also, when Sherlock thought John was hitting on him, it seemed to make him uncomfortable, suggesting that there _was_ someone else.

Moving on to John's second piece of evidence, obtained during the Blind Banker case. Sebastian Wilkes, an old acquaintance of SHerlock's mentioned someone.

"Sherlock Holmes," He had greeted.

"Sebastian," Sherlock replied.

"Hey, buddy, how long has it been, eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian said. He glanced at John with confusion, "Say, what happened to that woman you were always hanging around with? Emily Smith was it?"

Sherlock didn't even respond to that comment, and instead changed the subject, "This is my friend John Watson."

Sebastian then seemed too taken with teasing Sherlock to go back to the matter of Emily Smith, but after the case was over, John wondered.

John was sitting across from Sherlock in his chair while he was thinking about this. Something Sherlock was watching with amusement. When John looked up and saw the smirk on Sherlock's face, he asked, "What?"

"You're deducing me, aren't you?" Sherlock asked with mild amusement.

"I'm- no, I'm not-"

"Well go on then, what have you got?" Sherlock asked.

John narrowed his eyes slightly, he knew that Sherlock was hiding this information for a reason, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Who is Emily Smith?" He asked.

Sherlock stood quickly and grabbed his violin. He started to rapidly play something, but it sounded terrible. Because his hands were shaking. He stopped, put down the violin and turned to John.

"Don't ever mention that name again," He said seriously. He then grabbed his coat and left the flat.

John stood there in shock, whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't... _that_. _That_ was a violent and, dare he say, emotional reaction.

When Sherlock returned several hours later, he acted as if nothing had happened, so John went along with that, and tried to forget what had happened earlier that morning.

The next day, Sherlock left early in the morning to Minsk to go see a client there. Around noon that day, Lestrade came by.

"Oh, Greg. I wasn't expecting you," John said as Greg entered the flat.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that John," He looked around, "Is Sherlock in?"

"No, he left for Minsk this morning remember?" John asked.

Lestrade nodded, "Ah, yes, I remember, well, I shouldn't be bothering you then," he said. And was going to turn to leave.

"Wait, would you like a cuppa?" John asked.

"Oh, sure, if you wouldn't mind," Greg said.

A few minutes later Greg and John were sitting and chatting about some of their odd cases when a thought came into John's mind.

"Say, Greg, you wouldn't happen to know anyone by the name of Emily Smith would you?" John asked him.

Greg gave him a peculiar look, "Why d'you ask?"

"Well, someone mentioned it the other day, and Sherlock got very... well... Sherlock."

Greg thought about it for a moment, "Emily Smith, was a violinist for the London Symphony. She... knew Sherlock," Greg said, choosing his words wisely.

"Oh," John said, "Knew, meaning she doesn't anymore?"

"No, not really," Greg told him. John was confused, but Greg seemed uncomfortable and didn't want to push his luck any further.

* * *

It was the next day when things once again became interesting.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones," Greg said as he lead John and Sherlock to his office.

"Obviously," Sherlock replied.

"You'll love _this_. That explosion-"

"Gas leak," Sherlock corrected.

"No."

"No?"

"No. Made to _look_ like one."

"What?" John interjected with confusion.

"Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box, a _very_ strong box, and inside it was this." Greg held out an envelope to Sherlock, who took it.

Sherlock looked at the envelope briefly before turning to Lestrade, "Is this some sort of joke Lestrade?"

"What?" Greg and John asked at the same time.

"This is..." Sherlock paused and looked at the envelope with confusion, "This is her handwriting."

"Her, you mean..." Lestrade started.

"Yes," Sherlock said, his voice wavering slightly.

"But that's impossible," Greg said.

"I know..." Sherlock spoke.

John was looking between the two men, growing more and more confused by the moment.

"Would someone like to explain to me what's going on?" John asked.

Sherlock bit his lip before turning to John, "The woman whose handwriting this is was in a car accident and has been in a coma for nearly two years. She couldn't have written the letter. It's impossible, but yet... this _is_ her writing."

Greg had noticeably paled, "So this might have something to do with...?" Greg sort of asked about the 'accident'.

"Yes," Sherlock replied. He still hadn't opened the envelope.

"I'll call the care centre," Greg said picking up his phone.

"No, call Mycroft." Sherlock and Greg made eye contact, and Greg nodded before leaving the room with his phone in his hand.

"What woman?" John asked.

"My... my friend. Emily."

John looked at Sherlock with surprise, "But Sherlock-"

"I know," Sherlock cut him off. "We grew up together, she was... very important to me."

"I'm sorry Sherlock," John said, "I still don't understand, how could..." He trailed off and shook his head.

"I called it an accident," Sherlock said, and John looked at him strangely. "It wasn't an accident. There was a man in the back of her car, he had been waiting for her. I don't know exactly what he wanted, but he was holding a gun to the back of her neck. She crashed the car in a busy street. He shot her and ran. I..." Sherlock had to pause, "I never found who it was."

Before John could say anything else, Greg stormed back into the room, "She's gone Sherlock, she's not there!"

Sherlock didn't reply but opened the envelope.

In it was a bright pink phone. And so the game began.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Awakening

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Emily opened her eyes.

"Well, well, _Weeeell._ " An impish voice spoke.

Emily was very confused, she was laying on her back, and she couldn't move anything, not even her mouth to speak.

"Don't worry dearie, in a few days you'll be able to move again. You've been asleep for a long, _loooong_ time." Emily still couldn't see the man that was speaking, and she couldn't move her head to look around. "Work on your head, hands and feet first." She heard the clicking of steps as he walked away.

It took some number of hours, but eventually, Emily was able to move her jaw and tongue with ease, along with her hands, but her feet were a little trickier. A few hours more and she could move her neck and elbows. In fact, she could move most of her upper body when the strange man finally returned with a sandwich.

Emily sat up as much as she could, and the man looked at her with an impressed expression on his face, "Well look at you, I see I have an overachiever on my hands."

"Where am I?" She asked, her voice was rough from disuse.

The man smiled and shook his head. Emily realized that whoever he was, he wasn't going to tell her what was going on.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

Emily nodded slightly, "Starving."

"Good, all you need to do is write down one thing for me."

"What?"

"Sherlock."

* * *

John had never seen Sherlock in such a case of frenzy. He was frantic to solve this case.

"So, tell me about her," John said.

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked, looking into a microscope.

"Because I want to help, but the case is about her right?"

Sherlock sighed and looked up, "What's there to say?"

John sighed, "Well, what was she like?"

Sherlock sighed again and pushed his chair back from the microscope, "Emily Smith is... the most deceptively ordinary person you'll ever meet." John furrowed his eyebrows but decided not to comment further, instead letting Sherlock get back to work.

John recapped the evidence, they had found a shoe, and Sherlock was analyzing... something.

Suddenly the computer let out a bleep, and Sherlock immediately looked at the screen. "I know whose shoe this is."

"Who?" John asked.

"Emily had an older brother, his name was Markus. He died in a house fire when she was 10..."

* * *

"So where's your brother?" Sherlock asked Emily.

She looked up from her homework and looked at him strangely, "What?" She asked.

"Something I just noticed, you have a brother don't you?"

Emily was silent for a moment, "He's dead. He died a few years ago."

"Oh," Sherlock said awkwardly.

Emily shrugged, "Why are you asking now? You've known me for two years."

"I don't know, I just noticed something I guess..."

* * *

"So how do you know it's Markus' shoe?" John asked. Sherlock lifted the tongue of the shoe, and John could see the outline of a name. It wasn't clear what the name was, but John could certainly tell it began with an M. "Okay, so the name starts with an M, that's not exactly hard proof."

Sherlock shook his head, "Look at the shoelaces, little flakes of skin. The owner of the shoes had eczema, I ran a DNA sequence and it's a sibling match."

John scoffed, "Maybe you could've started with that."

"There must be something about the fire, something he wants me to solve."

"What if it's something about the fire?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded, "I don't think it was an accident. The fire report said that the fire started in the kitchen, the oven wasn't turned off... the thing is Emily's mother never cooked, and certainly not that day. Emily had had a concert, they were out since the morning."

"So you're saying someone started the fire?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded, "But how... and why?"

"How old was he when he died?" John asked.

"15," Sherlock responded.

John thought for a moment before saying, "Do you think it might have something to do with school? Maybe there was a fight? Or something else?"

"Speculating on the motive won't help us now John, we need data."

* * *

There was a doctor there when Emily woke up again. He took her pulse, blood pressure, reflex tests, and then he left.

As the doctor left the small room, the strange man from before entered.

"Hellllloooo Emily!" He called as he entered.

She looked up at him strangely, "Are you going to tell me who you are?"

The looked at her in thought for a moment, "Sure, what's the harm? You won't be around much longer." Emily's eyes widened, "My name is Jim."

"What did you do to wake me up?" She asked.

"We flooded your blood with so much morphine that you had an overdose, it shocked your system, made it restart. Rather simple really," Jim explained.

"But why?"

"Because I wanted to play a game with Sherlock Holmes."

"Why involve me?"

Jim chuckled, "For two reasons, one, Sherlock cares about you; a surefire way to get him interested in playing. And two, you almost killed my best man."

"What?"

"When you crashed your car? I must say, I wasn't expecting that from you."

Emily swallowed, "So you're going to kill me? Why wait? Why even wake me up?"

"Because I want him to see you, to see you scared and afraid, and I want to see his face the moment he realizes that there is nothing he can do." Emily's heart was pounding, she had to get out of here.

Emily was sitting on the side of the bed and Jim was standing in front of her. There were no windows in the room, only one door, so she knew she would have to get past Jim to make it out. She was weak right now, and she knew that Jim knew that, so he wouldn't expect her to run right at him. If she could get one good hit in...

"Sherlock's not afraid of anything," Emily said.

Just as Jim was about to reply, Emily stood and quickly moved forward with a closed fist aimed right at his neck. But it didn't work. He caught her hand out of the air like it was nothing.

"Good, good. I like your spirit Emily, I really do. It'll be such a shame when I have to kill you." He jabbed a needle into her arm and she gasped.

Emily felt the effects right away, she couldn't stand, her eyes would barely stay open. She clawed at Jim to keep herself upright, "Don't worry darling, when you wake up again you'll see your Sherlock."

"No, no..." She managed to mutter before falling unconscious in Jim's grasp.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: A Face From The Past

* * *

Sherlock had solved all of Moriarty's puzzles. He had solved the case of Emily's brother's death, he had solved the case of her father's disappearance through Janus cars, he had solved the case of the painting Emily had written her final paper on at school, and finally, he had procured the missile plans that he would trade for her. And now he was here, at the pool.

John was beside him, with Emily on the line, Sherlock would want no one else with a gun at his side that the loyal soldier John Watson.

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present," Sherlock said, looking around the seemingly empty pool. "A deal's a deal. Where's Emily?"

There was a moment of silence before a voice spoke, "I gave you my number. I thought you might call." There was a long pause, "Oh well, Emily has kept me great company."

Sherlock looked towards the door as it opened, and his breath caught in his throat. There she was, in front of him for the first time in two years. She looked a bit like a ghost. She was wearing a loose, flowing white dress, her skin was extremely pale, and she was trembling as she walked towards them.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket... or are you just glad to see us?" Jim asked with a grin. Jim continued to narrate, but all Sherlock could do was stop himself from running towards her. "Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that _was_ rather the point." Jim paused from his monologue as suddenly a sniper dot appeared over Emily's heart. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist you see."

Sherlock spoke for the first time, "Dear Jim, will you please fix it for me to help me disappear to South America? Dear Jim, will you please fix it for me to fake an old painting? Dear Jim, will you please fix it for me to kill my bully?"

John took the moment to look over the girl, she seemed alright, very thin, but alright.

Jim grinned, "Just-so!"

Sherlock took a breath, "I have the missile plans you wanted, now give me Emily."

Jim took a few steps forwards and reached out his hand. Sherlock placed the USB key in it.

"Ah, the missile plans... Boring!" Jim called, throwing the stick into the pool. "I could've gotten those anywhere."

Suddenly two more red dots appeared, both on John and Sherlock's head. Emily knew, now was the time to do something. Quickly, she pulled a scalpel from her dress and within a moment she had it at Jim's throat.

"Let them go, now." It was the first time Sherlock had heard her speak since that night. Her voice was rough and cold, but he supposed she was holding a knife to someone's throat.

Jim chuckled, "Darling, I don't know where you got that scalpel from, but I'm impressed. Also," Jim's tone changed to be much darker, "If you don't take a step back and give me that scalpel right now, my sniper is going to shoot your only friend in the head... One... Two-" Emily stepped back, "Smart girl, now give it to me."

Sherlock watched with a horrified expression as Moriarty grabbed her arm as she reached it out to him, grabbed the scalpel from her hand and sliced across her wrist.

Emily screamed and fell backwards, John instinctively took a step forward. "Don't even try it doctor Watson." Blood soon covered the front of her white dress. Her left hand frantically tried to stop the blood from pouring out, but it wasn't any use. Moriarty's cut was precise, he knew exactly what he was doing. SHe would bleed to death in a matter of minutes if someone didn't do something.

"What do you want?!" Sherlock shouted.

"I want to burn you, burn the _heart_ out of you..." He paused and thought, "But not today." Jim left the pool. Neither John nor Sherlock moved a muscle until he had completely left and the red dots had disappeared.

"Sh-sh-Sherlock-" Emily croaked out between sobs. John and Sherlock ran to her side. John quickly ripped off a piece of her dress and wrapped it tightly around her wrist, but the blood still poured from the wound.

"Emily, I'm right here alright. Just-just try to stay calm," Sherlock assured, he himself trying desperately not to panic.

"Sherlock, I can't- She needs a hospital, we need help," John said.

Sherlock reached into his pocket, "Quick." He handed John his phone, John quickly got up and dialled a number, presumably Lestrade, who could organize immediate help faster than 999.

He turned back to Emily, she was breathing faster, and she felt cold.

"Please Emily, stay with me."

"I'm always with you," She spoke shakily, "Always." She gripped his hand.

"No, you don't understand, there's so much I need to tell you... You can't..."

"I don't want to." Sherlock looked at her, tears were rolling from her bright eyes down her freckled cheeks, and for the first time in a long time, a genuine tear fell from his eye.

John quickly came back to Emily's side, "Two minutes, they'll be two minutes."

Sherlock looked at John, and then he knew... two minutes was too long. For the average person, the same wound would've taken about ten minutes to reach a fatal level, but Emily had just woken up from a two-year long sleep. Her cardiovascular system was much weaker than that of a regular person. It had only been two minutes already, but they all knew that she only had a minute left.

"Sherlock... You should... say what you need to say," John said. He was looking into the eyes of a man who he had been convinced had very few if any, emotions and John realized just how wrong he was about the whole thing.

Sherlock brushed some of Emily's hair out of her face and kissed her on her forehead. "I'm so sorry Emily."

Emily smiled as much as she could, and between quick, shallow breaths she responded, "I wouldn't have had it any other way Sherlock."

Suddenly Greg burst in, followed by medics. Sherlock's eyes whipped towards them.

Quickly she was taken from his grasp, but he knew she was in safe hands. He just hoped they were fast enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Introductions

* * *

Emily was excited, today she had gotten the mail and discovered two letters from the universities she had applied to.

She walked back up to her flat and saw that Sherlock was there watching telly. "Emily, I- Oh, what's that?" Sherlock asked about the mail.

"It's from The Royal Academy of Music... and Julliard," Emily said.

"Are you going to open them?" Sherlock asked.

Emily nodded and opened the first one from the Royal Academy. It was close to home, not the best school in the world, but it was certainly one of them. Emily would be lucky to go there, even if she had her heart set on Julliard.

"They accepted me!" Emily said with a smile.

She looked at Sherlock who was grinning back, "They'll be lucky to have you."

She started to open the one from Julliard as she said, "Well, I haven't opened this one yet, but I probably didn't get in any-" She suddenly stopped talking and put her hand over her mouth.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, "What is it?"

"I..." Emily stared at the words in front of her for a moment, "I got in."

Emily smiled widely, and as much as Sherlock wished he could do the same, he had realized something... She was going to leave.

A few weeks later...

Emily was at the airport with Sherlock, she was going to the United States... without him.

Emily hugged her best friend, "You'll be fine, you have Mycroft and your parents. And you can always call too... just not in the middle of the night."

Sherlock hugged her back, "Who will I bring on cases now?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Emily said as she pulled away from the hug. "I'm going to miss you."

Sherlock smiled, "Me too."

"Goodbye Sherlock."

"Goodbye Emily."

* * *

Emily woke up in a hospital room with a figure standing at the foot of her bed. The figure was backlit, but the silhouette was unmistakable. The suit, the umbrella...

"Mycroft?" Emily groaned.

Her vision came into more focus and saw that it was in fact Mycroft. "Hello Emily, it's been a while."

Emily smiled slightly, "Please tell me I wasn't asleep for another two years."

Mycroft chuckled, "No, fortunately only a day this time. Sherlock just left, I finally convinced him to get some food."

"Good for you, that's a hard task."

Mycroft nodded, "Indeed."

There was a moment of silence before Emily spoke again, "Am I okay?"

Mycroft nodded, "All things considered, yes. You didn't even need surgery, you simply lost most of your blood."

"Mm, simply."

Mycroft looked at her with fake sternness and she laughed before he continued. "You're allowed to leave whenever you want, but I should remind you that you won't be as strong as before... I know you liked running, it'll take you a while to build back up your endurance."

Emily nodded, "So I can go? Now?"

Mycroft nodded, "Yes, I brought you some of your things. I assume you would not like walking around in a hospital gown."

"Thanks Mycroft." He exited the room so she could get changed.

Her clothing was a bit baggy, seeing as a significant amount of her muscle had practically disintegrated over her two-year slumber, but it wasn't unwearable.

She briefly examined her wrist. It wasn't too painful, there were some light bandages covering five stitches, but that was all. She exited the room and saw that Mycroft had waited for her.

"Ready to go?" He asked.

"Yeah, but where will I go exactly?" Emily asked.

"You can stay with me for a while until you can find some place of your own."

Emily smiled, "Thanks Mycroft."

"Don't mention it."

They walked down the halls in silence, until Emily heard a familiar voice.

"No John, I am not having anymore ' _tofu chicken'_ I-" He suddenly stopped as he turned the corner and saw Emily and Mycroft standing in front of him.

"Sherlock," Emily said before walking right up to him and giving him a big hug.

"Emily." He hugged her back

John, who was standing there awkwardly, now knew why the man at the restaurant had said Sherlock had a type. Emily and John were fairly similar in terms of general appearance. They were both short, both had blonde hair, blue eyes, and they could both endure Sherlock's insufferable attitude.

When they parted, Emily turned to John, who stepped forwards. "Hi, I'm John Watson."

"Hi John, I'm Emily," She smiled and looked between the two men. "So... are you two...?" Mycroft snorted, John stuttered and looked away, while Sherlock looked at her with confusion. She looked up at Mycroft, who was barely holding himself together, and they both lost it.

Mycroft snickered and Emily laughed loudly, this went on for some time until John cleared his throat.

"God, you're not back for a day and already back to normal I see," Sherlock commented.

Emily smiled bittersweetly, "I have a lot to catch up on."

Sherlock stared at her and nodded, "Do you want to go for lunch?"

"Yeah, I'm starving," Emily replied.

"John?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head, "No, I'll let you two catch up."

"Great, let's go."

Sherlock and Emily went off to get some food, leaving Mycroft and John behind.

"So... Sherlock and Emily... were they...?" John asked.

Mycroft shook his head, "No, they're both too stubborn."

"What's that mean?" John asked.

Mycroft rubbed his forehead, "She'll wait forever for him to make the first move, and Sherlock is an adamant believer that love doesn't exist."

"Hmph, well... looks like I've got some work to do then," John said. Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

* * *

Sherlock had been out all day with Emily, and John was enjoying the silence. When the pair returned John could tell by the laughter that filled the apartment. It was very clear to him that Emily was a very cheerful person, and it was strange because Sherlock was the exact opposite.

"So we had to break the ancient Chinese code, and they thought _John_ was me!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Why'd they think that?"

"Through a series of unfortunate coincidences."

Emily saw John sitting in his chair on a laptop, "Hi John!" She greeted, taking off her scarf and hanging it on their rack.

"Hello Emily," He stood, "Do you uh... want a cuppa?"

She smiled and shook her head, "No, I shouldn't be staying long."

"Oh how come?" John asked.

"Well I'm dead tired for starters, and-"

"Sherlock?!" Mrs. Hudson called from behind the door, "Is there a woman up there, cause it sounded like-" Mrs. Hudson opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed Emily. "Emily?" She asked in shock.

"Oh! Mrs. Hudson!" Emily exclaimed, "It's been so long!"

Mrs. Hudson went over and hugged the girl, "Oh I'm so glad to see you! You're alright?" She asked as they parted.

"Yeah, I'm fine now. And you! You haven't changed a bit!" Emily said with a kind smile.

John, in the meantime, was confused, "Wait, sorry. You two know each other?"

"Of course! We met when Sherlock came to visit me at uni. We went down to Florida for a few days and Sherlock picked up her case," Emily explained.

"Oh that was so long ago!" Mrs. Hudson laughed, "Well, I'm glad you're back dear."

Emily smiled, "Thanks Mrs. Hudson." Emily stretched her arms over her head and yawned, "Well, I think I'm gonna get going." She wrapped her scarf around her neck again and then turned to John, "It was nice to meet you, Dr. Watson." She then turned to Sherlock, "I'll come by sometime tomorrow."

Sherlock nodded, "Goodnight Emily."

"Goodnight Sherlock." Emily left Baker street and Sherlock moved to the window and watched her get into the cab, and continued watching until it drove off.

John watched Sherlock with slight amusement, and when Sherlock sat down in his chair Sherlock looked at him strangely, "What?"

"Nothing, nothing, just... when's the wedding?" John asked.

Mrs. Hudson snickered before leaving the flat, and Sherlock narrowed his eyes but said nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Hey guys! I know it's been a while, but unfortunately, I still have no idea where I want to take this story. So I thought I would write a filer chapter exploring what Emily's relationship with Mycroft is. I hope you enjoy, and if you have any ideas about where you think the story should go, please comment or message me!

* * *

Mycroft Holmes was wary of Emily at first. When Sherlock first brought her to their home, Mycroft had a fairly large dislike for her. She was so... ordinary, and he didn't understand why Sherlock was so interested in her.

Over the next few years, Mycroft was off to university, and Emily was practically living in their house.

One day, Mycroft was home from uni over a small break, and he was worried about this event, you could call it. All the other boys of his class were attending with a girl, however, Mycroft was having a bit more difficulty in that area. When he walked into his kitchen and saw a 15-year-old Emily leaning on the counter talking with Sherlock, and most importantly, looking like she was 19, Mycroft began to think of a solution.

When Sherlock had finally left Emily's side, Mycroft approached her.

"Hey Mycroft, how's uni going?" Emily asked kindly.

"Just fine, thank you," He paused. "I was wondering, actually, if you wouldn't mind accompanying me to an event next weekend. We are supposed to bring some sort of partner, and, taken that you look significantly older than you are, were my second choice."

Emily smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow, "Who was your first choice?"

"My first choice would be not going at all," Mycroft said with a slightly bitter look.

Emily smiled again, understanding his feelings, "Well, of course, I'd love to." Emily was about to take a sip of her drink, but she paused, "Is it fancy dress? Because I have nothing really to wear."

"Don't worry about that, I'll drop something off at your house later," Mycroft told her.

Emily nodded and took a sip of her drink, Mycroft left the kitchen, passing Sherlock as he left.

* * *

The night in question came around rather quickly. As promised, Mycroft had dropped off a gorgeous dress and some makeup for Emily to use.

She had just finished getting ready when she saw lights on the drive on her house. Her mother was asleep after a long night shift at the hospital, so she silently made her way downstairs and out of the front door.

She saw the Mycroft was sitting in the driver's seat waiting silently.

"Thanks for being quiet," Emily said as she got into the car.

Mycroft nodded as he put the car into gear, "Of course. Your mother has been working a lot of nights."

Emily sighed slightly, "I've barely even seen her this month."

Mycroft didn't really know what to say to that, so he decided to change the subject, "The dress fits well I take it?"

Emily smiled, "Yes, it really does. I would ask how you knew my size, but I think I already know the answer."

"And what would that be?"

"Deduction, my dear," Emily said, doing her best impression of Mycroft, who broke a small smile.

On the ride there Mycroft told her about who was going to be there, and what he had told others about her, and the circumstances under which they met. Emily agreed to lie mainly because she knew that telling your peers that you are taking your little brother's friend as your not-date date to a university party is not exactly a story that would promote social standing, she also thought that it might be a little bit of fun.

The story was that she was an aspiring classical musician (true), who was leaving her music classes when she literally bumped into Mycroft on the street (false). She was 19 (false), born and raised in London (true), was currently taking a gap year (false), and had been dating Mycroft for two months (false).

When they arrived, a chauffeur took the car and left the pair at a large staircase.

Mycroft looked down on her and asked, "Ready?"

Emily nodded, "Of course."

He wrapped his arm around her body and placed a hand just above Emily's hip.

Mycroft had thought of the smallest details. Her dress was a light blue, which was a shade that appeared in both of their eyes. It also matched Mycroft's tie and pocket square.

People watched them as they came in, Emily could catch some whispers that were along the lines of: "I can't believe Mycroft Holmes has a date."

Emily immediately felt self-conscious, and, as if Mycroft could sense it, he said, "Don't be so nervous, see that young man in the navy suit ahead and to our right?" Emily glanced at him, and the woman who he was linked arms with. She was stunning, wearing a dark red dress that matched her lipstick. "The woman he's with is generally considered to be the most attractive girl in our class, yet he can't take his eyes off you."

A wave of, first, embarrassment, came over her, but as Mycroft's words sunk in, she realized the compliment. "Thank you, Mycroft."

He nodded silently and lead her into a large ballroom where there was an area for dancing, and then many circular tables. "Come on, let's find our seats."

After a couple minutes of searching, they finally found their table and took their seats with three other couples. Everyone seemed to know Mycroft and was quite surprised to see Emily.

"Huh, Mycroft Holmes, I'd never thought I'd see the day where you brought a woman to one of these things," One of the men spoke.

Emily reacted perfectly by smiling, saying something quietly under her breath to Mycroft, who smirked, and then asking him, "Oh. And why's that?"

The look on her face made it seem like she was asking a genuine question, one to which the man had no answer and his date looked very uncomfortable with. "Oh, I uh... I don't know I guess. Mycroft doesn't usually have too many women around him is all," He answered pathetically.

Emily let out a quiet laugh, "Well, I hope he doesn't."

"Yes, right," The man said, again awkwardly.

"So, how did the two of you meet?" One of the other men asked.

Both Mycroft and Emily started talking at the same time and they both stopped.

Mycroft looked at her and gestured for her to continue. "Sorry, no, you go," Emily said, blushing slightly.

"I insist," Mycroft said. Everyone at the table who knew Mycroft from school was astounded at the exchange. Usually, it would be difficult for a woman (or a man for that matter) to get Mycroft to give them the time of day, but here he was, acting uncharacteristically gentleman-like.

"Well, I ran into him when I was leaving my lessons, and I dropped all of my sheet music. He helped me gather it all up, so I asked him if I could take him to lunch to thank him," Emily explained. Mycroft was fairly impressed, he could obviously tell that she was lying, but everyone else fell for the story.

The night was going well, and Emily was quickly realizing that Sherlock was not alone in being hated for his deductions. Everyone's big question for her was the same. "How can you handle when he does 'the thing'?"

And Emily's response was always: "I think it's absolutely amazing, every time."

When the dinner was over, everyone eventually migrated to the dance floor. To all his peer's surprise, Mycroft also danced with Emily.

The pair stayed late, both of them actually enjoying themselves. They were forced to walk to where the car was parked because the valet's had already gone home for the night. On their way, Emily happened to look up and saw that the sky was exceptionally clear that night.

"Oh, Mycroft, look at the stars, you can see them so well tonight," Emily said.

Mycroft smiled, "I find your interest in astronomy fascinating, but I myself am no stargazer."

Emily stopped in her tracks, "So you're telling me, that with a mind like yours, you've never wondered about what could be out there?"

Mycroft turned to face her, "I'm usually more preoccupied with what's going on down here."

Emily looked up at him and smiled. She also noticed just how close the two of them were standing. Emily's eyes moved from his eyes to his lips, and Mycroft's did the same to her.

"Can I kiss you?" Mycroft asked quietly under his breath. Emily nodded slightly. He bent down a bit and brought his hand up to her cheek. The kiss was gentle and sweet, and what neither of them knew was that that was both of their first kisses.

After a moment, Emily pulled away. She smiled slightly as she saw that she had left light pink lipstick on his mouth. She wiped it off with her thumb.

"I probably shouldn't have done that," Mycroft said after a moment.

"Probably not," Emily agreed. "I like you, Mycroft, but the person that I was tonight, it was pretend. I'm not really like that, and I think we both know it."

"Well, if it's any consolation, you weren't the only one pretending," Mycroft said. They continued their walk to the car.

"Then I hope we both find someone who we don't need to pretend with," Emily said.

By the time they got back to Mycroft's car, it was nearly one in the morning, and given that the Holmes house was just under an hours drive away, both Mycroft and Emily thought it would be for the best if she simply stayed the night with the Holmes'.

When they arrived at the house, they were very quiet, making sure not to wake anyone up. Mycroft lent her one of his robes to change into, and she took her usual sleeping spot in the guest bedroom across the hall from Mycroft's.

Emily woke in the morning to a soft knock on the door, she got up, re-fastened Mycroft's robe around her, and opened the door.

"Come and get dressed, I'll drive you home," He said softly. He had hung up her dress in his closet so that it wouldn't get wrinkled, so she went into his room to change.

She changed back into the dress and met Mycroft back outside by his car. It was about a twenty-minute drive to Emily's house, and when they got there, she was horrified to see a police car outside.

Emily leaped out of Mycroft's car, nearly before it stopped moving, and ran into the house.

"Mum?!" Emily shouted into the house. Mycroft was right behind her as she turned the corner and saw her mother talking to two police officers.

"Emily! Oh, thank God!" Emily's mother cried, leaping from her seat and embracing Emily.

"Mum what's going on?! What happened?!" Emily asked with fear in her voice. The last time she came home to something like this, it was the news that her brother was dead and her home was gone.

"Oh I was so worried about you! I... I'd thought something had happened to you!" Emily's mother cried into Emily's shoulder. She pulled away, "Where have you been?!"

Emily smiled and took her mothers hand, "I'm so sorry. I was out with Mycroft and I stayed over at his house because we got back so late."

Emily's mother's eyes went to Mycroft, "Oh, Sherlock's older brother?" Emily nodded. Her mother let go of her hand and walked up to Mycroft.

"I'm sorry Ms. Smith, I should have brought her home," Mycroft said apologetically.

Emily's mother looked at Mycroft with a stink eye, "Tell me Mycroft, did anything happen between you and my daughter last night?"

Emily looked at her mother, astounded that she'd even ask.

"No!" Emily exclaimed. However, Emily's message was undercut when Mycroft simultaneously said, "Yes."

The police officer was beginning to become very uncomfortable, and so he decided to excuse himself from the home, sensing that he was no longer needed.

Emily whipped around to face Mycroft, "What?"

"Well there was, but we both agreed that it wasn't serious."

Emily's mother turned to look at Emily with an expression of deep rage, "You did what?!" She demanded.

"Mom, we didn't have sex," Emily said. Ah, Mycroft thought, that made more sense.

However, Emily's mother wasn't content yet. "So then what exactly did happen?" She asked, still glaring at Mycroft.

"I kissed him," Emily said before Mycroft could speak. "We talked about it, and we have both agreed that it won't happen again."

Emily's mother still seemed suspicious, but then she glanced at the clock and said, "I have to go to work, we'll talk about this later."

Emily nodded and watched as her mother left the house in her pink scrubs. She then turned to Mycroft, who looked apologetic. "Don't worry about it," She paused, "I had a great time last night. If you ever need a fake date again, I'd love to go."

"Thank you, Emily, I will keep that in mind," Mycroft said with a slight smile.

That was far from the last escapade that Emily Smith and Mycroft Holmes had.

Over the years, Mycroft would call up Emily if he needed some legwork to be done on cases he was investigating, and that night was far from the last event that Mycroft brought Emily to. In fact, Emily had met many members of the government and the royal family.

Sherlock became a little bit jealous of the two and started bringing Emily on his own cases. It was then that Sherlock realized what an asset someone else can be to his cases.

In the time that Emily spent with Mycroft, she became one of the first people outside of his family to really get to know him. They always had a friendship from that night on, which explained why whenever Emily needed help she would call Mycroft.

When Emily and her mother were fighting, Emily briefly moved into Mycroft's flat. When Emily needed a part-time job, she worked in Mycroft's office. When she woke up from a two-year coma, she moved in with Mycroft.

Emily walked into Mycroft's house and was quite amazed, "Wow... Mycroft this is a nice place."

"Well, I'm pleased you like it," Mycroft said with a hint of sarcasm as he walked into the foyer from the living room. "Your room is upstairs and the third door on the left."

Emily smiled, "Thanks Mycroft, this'll be just like the old days."

Mycroft smiled slightly and briefly shook his head. As Emily turned to go upstairs Mycroft spoke. "Emily," She turned around, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, about what happened."

Emily's face turned sad. She dropped the bags she was carrying and walked back own the stairs. She timidly walked up to Mycroft and hugged him. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault but Moriarty's."

Mycroft reluctantly reciprocated the hug, "I promise I won't let anything like that happen to you again."

"Thank you," Emily mumbled into his shoulder. She held onto him a little longer before letting go and travelling back up the stairs, "Goodnight Mycroft."

"Goodnight Emily," Mycroft returned.


End file.
